There's an intriguing quality to woodlands that I like to call the layered effect. It's most obvious when staring into a forested area that spans a large area and is composed of many different species of trees and other growth. Those in the foreground appear, of course, the clearest and offer the most detail. Pine needles, branches and leaves are all visible, distinct one from the other. But as the eye moves more deeply into the denser growth, images begin to blur, until they appear as layer upon layer of subtly different shades of greens and browns.
There, the edges of distinguishable shapes like leaves and branches blur, and smaller objects, such as individual pine needles, join to produce a tufted look when framed by the more delineated shapes of large boughs and trunks. Colors soften, and from that distance, pine boughs take on a bluish tint depending the slant of the light, becoming the stuff that woodland fantasies are made of.
This so-called layering process extends to all of life, from the air masses that exist above us to the ground we walk on. From its core outward, the planet we call home is a series of mineral masses that have continued to build on top of each other over billions of years. The uppermost layers, called plates, move constantly, releasing some of the intense pressure trapped beneath them in the form of earthquakes and volcanoes.
The oceans are composed of layers of water that start out relatively warm at the surface and get progressively colder toward the bottom. Clouds are layered masses of moisture, the air we breathe is just one layer in what we call our atmosphere, and in winter, snow accumulates in layers between storms. As all things grow, they do so by a process of new growth covering, or being covered by, old growth, as illustrated most distinctly in trees, whose new tissues emerge as rings that can be counted once they are cut down. As smaller plants grow, they do so as layers of new tissue displacing the old, snakes shed old skins to make room for the new, and even we humans evolve through growth that involves a layering process that takes place within and without.
Stylists speak of hair layering, painters apply pigment in layers toward the perfect finish, and masons put down stacks of foundational materials. We polish our nails with multiple coatings, we dress in layers against the cold, and even our lives could be said to be layers of experiences, one following another, each resting upon those that came before it.
Physically or philosophically, much of life evolves by degrees that often manifest themselves as shapes, objects, events or outcomes superimposed one upon the other. And the woods mirror that, in the detail they show us up close and layered against blurred masses of color and substance that act as backdrops, lending perspective and assigning meaning to what we are seeing. In this sense, nature is forever making connections between all forms of life, between the real and the abstract, between the clear and the hazy, between the lives of woodlands and wild creatures and our very own.
Looking deeply into the woods is an exercise for the mind and the eye, as both take in the myriad shapes, planes, surfaces and configurations that work together to produce what we see. And at some point in the farthest reaches, clarity dims as does reality and the imagination takes over. What is that over there, I often ask myself, when some shape, shade or shadow in the distance is too vague to identify. It could be nothing, I answer, or then again, it could be everything.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1530989876
Showing posts with label forest. Show all posts
Showing posts with label forest. Show all posts
Saturday, June 7, 2014
Friday, June 6, 2014
Again, Trees
Trees are wondrous things, and I often take them for granted. Caught up in my daily preoccupations, I often rush by them without giving them a second glance, focused as I am on matters at hand, most of which, truth be known, I can't do very much about.
I often drive along with my left arm hanging out the open car window, and I have acquired quite a prominent farmer's tan that way. It's particularly dark this year, considering all the rambling I've done in search of fodder for this column and the photos to accompany them. One day, oblivious to the sun's intensity, and forgetting the weather forecaster's warning that the ultraviolet factor was dangerously high that day, the tender skin on my arm just above the elbow was burned and required several applications of that blessedly soothing concoction known as aloe gel. Despite my sunburn, it was along one stretch of Route 5 in Saco that I was reminded that afternoon of what a blessing trees are, especially on hot cloudless days.
From the intersection of routes 5 and 35 in Dayton to the Waterboro town line several miles west, the woods alternately deepen and thin on either side of the road. My arm becomes a sensing device of sorts as it picks up the changes in temperature that occur between the wooded areas and sections where the tree line is farther back from the road and more open sky appears. Along one particularly dense wooded stretch, the temperature dropped by a good 10 degrees, and my arm was actually chilled. Then, when the tree canopy opened up again to allow the sun through, it got decidedly warmer. I tested the theory all the way to Waterboro where the road widens and the trees no longer join together closely enough over the road to alter the temperature until the turnoff to Shaker Hill on route 202 in Alfred.
The coolness that trees impart is due to several factors beyond their ability to provide us with shade. Trees are natural air conditioners that operate exclusively on solar power to chill the air around us and keep it chilled for long periods of time. This is where water, good old H-Two-0, comes into play, much as it does inside an electrically-powered air conditioner. Trees take in hundreds of gallons of water from the soil each day through their roots. This water travels to every part of the tree to keep it hydrated and to assist with the production of food in that amazing process known as photosynthesis.
Water molecules are composed of hydrogen and oxygen. In a complex process, the sun stimulates the hydrogen molecules that are utilized during the food production process, while the oxygen is given off through the leaves. Any excess water not used during the production of the sugars necessary to a tree's survival is also released in yet another process known as transpiration, which closely resembles what we call perspiration, or the process by which our own bodies produce water, or sweat, to keep us cool. So not only do trees intercept the sun's damaging rays, they also keep us cool with the water they release into the air around them. This cooling ability increases exponentially depending upon the number of trees in any given area. Thus, the denser the forest, the chillier it will be, because the air around and between the trees is saturated with cool water.
Trees also do not retain heat in the general sense. Thus, once the sun sets, they and the air around them cool almost immediately as opposed to the asphalt and concrete that weave their way through cities and towns and that store the heat long after sundown. This is a welcome effect during the winter, but it quickly becomes the bane of city dwellers during the hottest times of the year, especially in places where there is little or no vegetation.
The next time you are out of an evening, notice how much cooler it is in the more wooded areas as opposed to the city streets. Take note of the decided chill in the air in places where the treetops join hands, if you will, to do what they were designed to do which is to naturally and efficiently keep us cool and refreshed and all without our having to flip a single switch.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1530989876
I often drive along with my left arm hanging out the open car window, and I have acquired quite a prominent farmer's tan that way. It's particularly dark this year, considering all the rambling I've done in search of fodder for this column and the photos to accompany them. One day, oblivious to the sun's intensity, and forgetting the weather forecaster's warning that the ultraviolet factor was dangerously high that day, the tender skin on my arm just above the elbow was burned and required several applications of that blessedly soothing concoction known as aloe gel. Despite my sunburn, it was along one stretch of Route 5 in Saco that I was reminded that afternoon of what a blessing trees are, especially on hot cloudless days.
From the intersection of routes 5 and 35 in Dayton to the Waterboro town line several miles west, the woods alternately deepen and thin on either side of the road. My arm becomes a sensing device of sorts as it picks up the changes in temperature that occur between the wooded areas and sections where the tree line is farther back from the road and more open sky appears. Along one particularly dense wooded stretch, the temperature dropped by a good 10 degrees, and my arm was actually chilled. Then, when the tree canopy opened up again to allow the sun through, it got decidedly warmer. I tested the theory all the way to Waterboro where the road widens and the trees no longer join together closely enough over the road to alter the temperature until the turnoff to Shaker Hill on route 202 in Alfred.
The coolness that trees impart is due to several factors beyond their ability to provide us with shade. Trees are natural air conditioners that operate exclusively on solar power to chill the air around us and keep it chilled for long periods of time. This is where water, good old H-Two-0, comes into play, much as it does inside an electrically-powered air conditioner. Trees take in hundreds of gallons of water from the soil each day through their roots. This water travels to every part of the tree to keep it hydrated and to assist with the production of food in that amazing process known as photosynthesis.
Water molecules are composed of hydrogen and oxygen. In a complex process, the sun stimulates the hydrogen molecules that are utilized during the food production process, while the oxygen is given off through the leaves. Any excess water not used during the production of the sugars necessary to a tree's survival is also released in yet another process known as transpiration, which closely resembles what we call perspiration, or the process by which our own bodies produce water, or sweat, to keep us cool. So not only do trees intercept the sun's damaging rays, they also keep us cool with the water they release into the air around them. This cooling ability increases exponentially depending upon the number of trees in any given area. Thus, the denser the forest, the chillier it will be, because the air around and between the trees is saturated with cool water.
Trees also do not retain heat in the general sense. Thus, once the sun sets, they and the air around them cool almost immediately as opposed to the asphalt and concrete that weave their way through cities and towns and that store the heat long after sundown. This is a welcome effect during the winter, but it quickly becomes the bane of city dwellers during the hottest times of the year, especially in places where there is little or no vegetation.
The next time you are out of an evening, notice how much cooler it is in the more wooded areas as opposed to the city streets. Take note of the decided chill in the air in places where the treetops join hands, if you will, to do what they were designed to do which is to naturally and efficiently keep us cool and refreshed and all without our having to flip a single switch.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1530989876
Night Sounds
Some nights I have trouble falling asleep, and it has nothing to do with not being tired enough or having too much on my mind. I can't sleep because I don't want to miss a single thing that is going on out there in the dark woods just beyond my bedroom window. It's particularly bad on warm nights when the window is wide open and my face is just inches from it. While it's too dark to see anything, there is plenty to hear especially now as summer is winding down and many woodland creatures are putting on their best performances of the year.
If the woods belong to the woodpeckers, crows and hawks during the day, then the night definitely belongs to the owls. As early as 9 p.m., I hear them sometimes far, other times near, but never to be mistaken for anything but the mysteriously magnificent creatures they are. While I've never seen one in all the time I've lived here, I've certainly heard them plying the night air with this distinctive calls. If my research serves me right, I'm hearing the barred owl a lot these nights, as well as the great horned and the long-eared owl. And not to be outdone are the loons, whose calls exhibit a new sense of urgency as though they are giving it all they've got before it's time to leave for another year. It always begins with their first haunting notes, then builds to their more insistent tremulous calls as they move from place to place.
This is also the season of the cricket and other insects that fill these woods with sounds both high-pitched and insistent. I hear the coyotes barking and yipping from deep in the woods and a nearby dog barking its response or its distress. Sometimes I hear something come crashing down among the trees, as I did one night not long ago when something screamed before the crash came. I suspect that one of my cats had approached a raccoon and it scrambled up a tree only to find a branch that wasn't strong enough to hold it. I went out the next day to inspect, but with so much dead growth interwoven along the forest floor, it's always hard to tell if anything new's been added to the pattern.
Last night, the rain came down steadily and heavily for several hours, and this morning, the residual raindrops sparkled in the sunlight as they slipped from the leaves. I lay awake a long while listening to it and feeling the spray coming in through the open window, of hearing the rain bearing down on the roof. At one point, it was hitting the ground so hard that my room was bathed in the rich earthy smell of the soil as its particles were being displaced by the insistent raindrops. It occurred to me then that, along with all the others wonders that nature keeps presenting to me, it now seems that she also has the capacity to turn and aerate the earth simply by raining down upon it. It's a scent that I always eagerly await in the spring and that touched a somewhat bittersweet note in me at this point in the year.
Which brings me to this, the fact that I have now been sharing my thoughts and observations here for nearly a year as the seasons once again come full circle. I began last year around this time to put down what I see and feel here, what I've learned and what realizations I've arrived at simply by looking at things such as leaves and by listening to what the wild creatures have to say. As I end this today, a crow is cawing from a nearby tree, announcing its presence in this rain-washed sunkissed place I call home, where I hope to continue, at least for a little while longer, to find new things to write about. Somehow, I don't think that will ever be a problem.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1530989876
If the woods belong to the woodpeckers, crows and hawks during the day, then the night definitely belongs to the owls. As early as 9 p.m., I hear them sometimes far, other times near, but never to be mistaken for anything but the mysteriously magnificent creatures they are. While I've never seen one in all the time I've lived here, I've certainly heard them plying the night air with this distinctive calls. If my research serves me right, I'm hearing the barred owl a lot these nights, as well as the great horned and the long-eared owl. And not to be outdone are the loons, whose calls exhibit a new sense of urgency as though they are giving it all they've got before it's time to leave for another year. It always begins with their first haunting notes, then builds to their more insistent tremulous calls as they move from place to place.
This is also the season of the cricket and other insects that fill these woods with sounds both high-pitched and insistent. I hear the coyotes barking and yipping from deep in the woods and a nearby dog barking its response or its distress. Sometimes I hear something come crashing down among the trees, as I did one night not long ago when something screamed before the crash came. I suspect that one of my cats had approached a raccoon and it scrambled up a tree only to find a branch that wasn't strong enough to hold it. I went out the next day to inspect, but with so much dead growth interwoven along the forest floor, it's always hard to tell if anything new's been added to the pattern.
Last night, the rain came down steadily and heavily for several hours, and this morning, the residual raindrops sparkled in the sunlight as they slipped from the leaves. I lay awake a long while listening to it and feeling the spray coming in through the open window, of hearing the rain bearing down on the roof. At one point, it was hitting the ground so hard that my room was bathed in the rich earthy smell of the soil as its particles were being displaced by the insistent raindrops. It occurred to me then that, along with all the others wonders that nature keeps presenting to me, it now seems that she also has the capacity to turn and aerate the earth simply by raining down upon it. It's a scent that I always eagerly await in the spring and that touched a somewhat bittersweet note in me at this point in the year.
Which brings me to this, the fact that I have now been sharing my thoughts and observations here for nearly a year as the seasons once again come full circle. I began last year around this time to put down what I see and feel here, what I've learned and what realizations I've arrived at simply by looking at things such as leaves and by listening to what the wild creatures have to say. As I end this today, a crow is cawing from a nearby tree, announcing its presence in this rain-washed sunkissed place I call home, where I hope to continue, at least for a little while longer, to find new things to write about. Somehow, I don't think that will ever be a problem.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1530989876
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